The cost for Russia

An isolationist ideology triumphs in Russia, but the war in Georgia brings reverberations at home

AFTER barely 100 days in office, the soft-spoken Dmitry Medvedev, Russia's president, has been cast in the unlikely role of war leader. His initial job appeared to be as Vladimir Putin's spokesman. But he quickly got a taste for war. On Tuesday August 26th he stood beneath the two-headed Russian eagle and solemnly announced the Kremlin's decision to recognise the independence of Abkhazia and South Ossetia.

The decision, Mr Medvedev argued, was forced on him by Georgia's “genocide” against South Ossetia. But the argument is spurious. It is true that, in the early 1990s, when Georgia was barely a state, its nationalistic leaders committed atrocities in South Ossetia and Abkhazia. But it is also true that more than 200,000 Georgians were driven out of Abkhazia, and that Russia backed Abkhazia militarily.

Abkhazia had the trappings of a nascent state, but South Ossetia was a chessboard of villages (Georgian and Ossetian) which suffered under a Moscow-sponsored, thuggish and corrupt regime whose main job seemed to be to provoke Georgia. Mikheil Saakashvili, Georgia's president, made mistakes: he was in too much of a rush to take back the enclaves and did too little to disown Georgia's nationalist past. His worst mistake was to order the shelling of Tskhinvali, South Ossetia's capital, on August 7th. But this was not, as Russia claimed, genocide; the death toll was under 200. Moreover, the ethnic cleansing of Georgians in South Ossetia is all too evident: Georgian villages have been destroyed and thousands of Georgians displaced by South Ossetian militia.

And although the latest conflict was triggered by Georgia, the deeper roots of Russia's invasion lie in events that go back to 2003-04: the destruction of the Yukos oil company, and Russia's perception of the colour revolutions in Georgia and Ukraine as a Western plot to undermine its sovereignty. Mr Saakashvili's support for Ukraine's orange revolution particularly irked Mr Putin.

Lilia Shevtsova of the Carnegie Moscow Centre argues that the political system built by Mr Putin requires the images of an enemy and a besieged fortress. “This war is not about South Ossetia, Abkhazia or Georgia,” she says. “It is about the matrix of the Russian state and its survival. The beast needs feeding.” Konstantin Zatulin, a Duma deputy handling relations with former Soviet republics, is more belligerent. “The time when we needed Western applause is over,” he says.

After years of cultivating xenophobic sentiment and persuading Russians that they face an enemy, the Kremlin had prepared the population psychologically for war. That, says Boris Dubin, a sociologist, is why Russia's propaganda fell on fertile ground. In the public mind, he claims, the cause of the war is to be found in “America's expansionist plans and desire to establish control over Russia's neighbours.”

With its troops still in Georgia, Russia has also made a mockery of the French-negotiated ceasefire. The war has cemented the victory of isolationist ideology in Russia, which will shape both domestic politics and foreign relations for years to come.

The partition of Georgia may cause a long-term confrontation between Russia and the West. Too bad, Mr Medvedev said this week: “Nothing scares us, including the prospect of a cold war”. (“If it's only cold, that's not a problem,” Bernard Kouchner, the French foreign minister retorted.) Russia's elite is convinced that the West is weak and will swallow Russia's decision. “When you cross the road you have to check for dangers,” declares Mr Zatulin. “The West can apply psychological pressure. But Europe cannot afford to turn down our gas and America needs our help with Afghanistan and Iran.”

The fallout may be felt most inside Russia itself. Hopes for liberalisation and modernisation under Mr Medvedev have evaporated. In the past few days the Kremlin has rejected Mikhail Khodorkovsky's parole application and briefly detained protesters in Red Square who held a banner “For Your Freedom and Ours” in a repeat of a protest against the invasion of Czechoslovakia staged by dissidents 40 years ago.

Mr Medvedev's recognition of Abkhazia and South Ossetia may also have unpredictable consequences for Russia's north Caucasus. Russia has bolstered separatism in Georgia but crushed it brutally in Chechnya.

Indeed, Russia's recognition of South Ossetia and Abkhazia could easily reignite separatist sentiment in the north Caucasus. Chechnya may be too exhausted to fight another war with Russia at present, but in ten years' time “the question of independence of Chechnya will arise again,” says Ekaterina Sokiryanskaya of Memorial, a human-rights group. Russia maintains stability in the Caucasus by military force and fear. Even as Russia was “liberating” South Ossetia, its security services were intimidating human-rights activists in Ingushetia and Dagestan. The methods they use differ little from those of the separatists and terrorists they are fighting. Inevitably, this leads to further radicalisation of the population, says Magomet Mutsolgov, a human-rights activist in Ingushetia.